


ortus

by reshirama



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Loop Theory, M/M, Time Loop, i have no idea this is a mess, i t hink, post eoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9278519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reshirama/pseuds/reshirama
Summary: “So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ."Yes, that is so," said the fox.But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.Yes, that is so," said the fox.Then it has done you no good at all!"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields.”-----------kawoshin. loop theory. no sense at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by a dream i had before i even watched nge from what i knew about kawoshin but still ended up being ic, so this is????? really messy and not very sensible
> 
> ortus means sunrise in latin
> 
> the quotes are from the little prince by antoine de saint-exupéry

_ "Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world....” _

  
  


* * *

 

The red water sings as the horizon stretches out, bloody and stained and broken. The ocean is bloody, and full of life. And yet, there is nothing.

 There is a piano. Sleek and glossy and black, like a cat it stands and waits. Kaworu blinks, and presses fingers to the keys. A chord; beautiful and heady in its intensity, yet wonderfully meaningless in its isolation. He presses another chord, and suddenly the chord becomes a sequence and he’s playing and playing and playing, fingers dancing over the keys.

‘That’s beautiful, Kaworu-kun.’ A ripple in the red water, and Shinji steps over to him. ‘It sounds kind of familiar, but I can’t put a name to it. What’s it called?’

 Kaworu smiles, arches towards the keys to hide it and stops. ‘It’s not anything- I just made it up as I was going along, I’m afraid, Shinji-kun. You can name it, if you’d like.’ His fingers tremble. He is emotional, a mess in Shinji’s presence. It is still remarkable to him, still exhilarating to feel the rush of blood through his veins when Shinji’s fingers brush the inside of his wrist, or the way his heart picks up when his lips find the back of his neck.

 Love is not a Lilin concept, but the intensity of it is, and Kaworu, now human, now angel, has never quite been able to contain the mess of adoration he feels in Shinji’s presence. He notices everything; the way his body reacts and twists in the most absurd ways when he’s around Shinji. For example, he’s discovered his throat tightens and his fingers shake when they touch. It has been years and years, and he still doesn’t know  _ why _ . 

 Shinji’s voice wavers. ‘I- don’t know what to call it, Kaworu-kun, I’m no good at things like-’

‘You don’t have to name it now. Something will come to you, I’m sure.’ He breaks into Shinji’s trail of words and smiles. He can feel the adoring gaze in his eyes. He’s gone. He’s so far gone.

 A silence, both comfortable and uneasy falls around them as Kaworu begins to play. He plays, letting the notes arc around them messily as Shinji sits down next to him on the piano stool next to him.

 The world is in ruins. The buildings creak, just the bare bones of a city. There are no people anymore, and Kaworu wishes it would stay that way. He wishes he could stay. But when the song ends, so must this life. But he will not; he is eternal and empty. He is the skeleton of the city that sits on the coast, and arches and curls towards a sky that no longer knows night nor day. 

 The moon hangs, and Kaworu is sure it is listening as he adds another bar, another stanza onto his piece.

 Shinji’s head rests on his shoulder, and Kaworu feels the soft exhale of breath brush over him, sinking into his skin through the cloth and he shudders, tries to conceal the blush on his cheeks and the stutter in his fingers.

 ‘Kaworu-kun, this is a dream, isn’t it?’ There’s something wild and desperate in Shinji’s voice, but something hopeful too and Kaworu almost stops playing. ‘This is just like everything else- I’m making it up, aren’t I? Because you’re dead. You’re dead and I killed you.’

 Then Kaworu does stop, hands crashing against the keys into the final cadence, out of tune and harsh. He feels Shinji jump against him. His fingers leave the piano. 

 ‘I am not alive, Shinji-kun. But I’m not dead, either. Just remember me, and I won’t die, I promise.’ His voice shakes. He hates saying it, he hates how fake it sounds even to his own ears, but he must, he must. For Shinji.

 ‘I knew it.’ Shinji’s hands fist into his shirt and there are tears dampening the fabric, and Kaworu makes a noise in the back of his throat, startled. ‘You’re really here, you’re here and I don’t care if you’re alive or not but you’re  _ here _ . When I dream about you, you always say you’re alive and that you won’t leave me again, but you didn’t this time, did you?’ He chokes, hands twisting. ‘You didn’t, so it’s okay, right?’

 The call of the next world is tugging on him, but Kaworu envelops Shinji, kisses the shell of his ear and shakes. ‘It’ll be alright if you make it so, Shinji-kun.’ God, it would be better if Shinji just forgot him. He can’t face it- he was the one who turned Shinji into this shaking mess, it was him, his fault. He is appalling and inhuman and selfish. If he never got involved, Shinji would be so much better. If he attacked, if he just acted like the rest of his siblings, then he would never bring Shinji this pain. 

 But he’s here and he’s selfish, and he loves Shinji, he loves him. So as much as it hurts him to cause Shinji pain in this way, it also makes him alive. He is nothing without it. He is empty without it.

 Free will is being offered two choices and taking the worst of the two, just because you can. That is Tabris- that is Kaworu Nagisa. That is what he does, and it is both profoundly human and alien all at once. 

 ‘Please don’t go.’ chokes Shinji. ‘I just got you back, please don’t go.’

Oh, Shinji, thinks Kaworu. You never had me in the first place. He brushes Shinji’s hair aimlessly, and then slowly detaches his hands from his tearstained shirt. 

 ‘I have to, I’m sorry. You’ll understand eventually.’ Shinji looks up at him, and blinks. Kaworu thinks he looks beautiful even in grief, perhaps because of his grief, the tears on his face turning his face red and his blue eyes deep indigo, like an ocean in winter- unknown, knowledge that only Kaworu possesses, because no human has seen a winter. But he is not human, and he revels in Shinji’s despair.

 Over the horizon, the sun peeks her head over the ruined land. It catches Shinji’s lashes, hung with tears ready to fall, and Kaworu brushes his cheek as Shinji slips off the seat and falls to his knees. His head rests in Kaworu’s head, reverent, and as Kaworu brushes his hair he thinks he doesn’t deserve this at all, and yet he does.

 ‘I really do have to go now, Shinji-kun. I’m sorry. But I’ll see you soon, I swear. But try to live. Try to live, alright? For me. Please, I love you.’ And he takes Shinji’s hands and pulls him off, and begins to walk.

 The world is red, and he walks along the beach to the next world, and now he is dying, now he is dying, and it hurts.

 ‘Kaworu-kun, wait!’ He stops, and turns backwards. ‘The piece. Call it Sunrise.’ The sun sets Shinji’s tears alight and Kaworu nods. He can’t think of a better name. He can’t think. He is hurting. But it is alright. He will be, and so will Shinji, he is sure. He sticks his hands in his pockets and begins to walk.

* * *

  
  


_ “So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near-- _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry." _ _   
_ _   
_ _ It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ." _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Yes, that is so," said the fox. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Yes, that is so," said the fox. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Then it has done you no good at all!" _ _   
_ _   
_ __ It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields.”

 


End file.
